


let me stay with you a while

by littletrenchcoatangel



Series: 31 Days of Gay [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, could be read as fem!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletrenchcoatangel/pseuds/littletrenchcoatangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kisses you like there are a thousand reasons why he wants to, like there are a thousand more reasons why he knows he shouldn’t. He kisses you like he never wants to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me stay with you a while

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt "please, don't leave". i am sorry this is bad. i know it's bad. i'm sorry. o h myg od.

Scott comes over on Tuesday to tell you that you’re being stupid.

Lydia comes over on Wednesday to ask you if you’re sure.

Cora texts you on Friday, taking you by surprise, but it has nothing to do with your decision.

“You don’t have to do this,” your father tells you, and when you sit down for dinner he can barely meet your eyes.

A week passes, and you pack your bags slowly, waiting for – something, you don’t know what, and when Derek climbs through your window on a stormy Thursday night, you aren’t surprised.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, once you’ve handed him a towel. He gestures at the suitcase and clothing spread over your bed, as if waving at them will give him answers.

“Yeah,” you mutter, and you go back to rolling up your shirts. “Alaska.”

You hear more than see him come to a sudden stop, the rustling of the towel in his hair slowing until you hear the fabric drop to the floor.

“Alaska?”

You nod. You don’t have to turn around to know that his eyebrows have raised at that, or that he’s already halfway to crossing his arms. He’s probably got a dumb expression on his face, the one he likes to use when one of the pack tries to lie to him.

“You’re serious,” he says, after a moment, as if there’s a chance you could be lying.

You nod again, winding the cord for your laptop around one of your sweaters. When you turn around to find your headphones, he’s still there, sitting in your desk chair as if he owns it.

“What’s in Alaska?” he asks, and you’re grateful for his phrasing.

“Snow. People. The sun.”

“Stiles,” he growls, and it’s the same tone he uses when Scott does something stupid.

“What?”

“Why are you going?”

You take a deep breath, rehearsing the line in your head, and you think you’re doomed from the start when he chuckles.

“I’m going to study,” you tell him. “I need to get out of Beacon Hills.”

When you turn around, he’s already staring. His arms are crossed, his eyebrows raised, a look on his face that says he’s simultaneously impressed and disappointed by you.

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off I am,” you grumble. Because you’re not lying, not exactly.

“You’re not telling me everything.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter. “You’re not my real alpha.”

He actually looks a little hurt, at that, but he recovers quickly. “Why are you going?” he asks again.

You stare at him.

“Stiles.”

He stares at you.

“Derek.”

Your father knocks on your door, reminds you that he’s headed off to work, and you call out your farewell, not taking your eyes off the man in your room.

“Stiles, why are you-?”

“I heard you the first time, Derek,” you tell him, and it comes out harsher than you intended. “I told you. I need to get out.”

“Why?”

“Maybe because this town is a beacon for a storm of supernatural bullshit and I’m not equipped to deal with it?”

“What?” Derek mutters. “You’re-”

“Human,” you remind him. “I’m human. I can’t fight like you guys can, I can’t do the things that you do. It’s not – it isn’t safe for me to stay here.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s a cop. He can handle himself. Argent is keeping the station stocked with wolfsbane bullets.”

“Great,” Derek mutters. “Now I’m really screwed.”

You roll your eyes, stepping back to sit on the end of your bed. “He’ll give you more, if you need it.”

Derek glares, but says nothing. After a moment, he squints.

“What about the others? Scott and Lydia.”

“They can take care of themselves. They’ve got you.”

His expression goes odd, at that. “What about me?”

Before you can stop yourself, you laugh. Derek, as you expected, doesn’t look impressed.

“You’ve done pretty well at surviving so far. You’ll be fine.”

Neither of you point out the elephant in the room. You both know that the only reason he’s survived so far is because he’s had help, mostly from you, and you distract yourself with picking at a thread on your jeans to keep from saying anything.

“What’s in Alaska?” he asks you, for the second time, and it feels so much more serious than before.

“People that know things,” you mutter cryptically, and he scowls. “People that can teach me how to protect myself. To protect Scott, and Lydia, and,” you pause, not sure if you want to let the words out, but then you decide – fuck it, and speak. “And how to protect you.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispers, and something on his face breaks you. “We can protect ourselves. We can protect _you_. You don’t need to go.”

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity, and when you finally whisper, “yes, I do,” to the faded carpet at your feet, he sighs.

“You know you’ll be threatened,” he says. “Because you’ll smell like a different pack.”

“I’ve started mixing wolfsbane in my detergent. It’ll mask the scent.”

Derek’s mouth twists, impressed. “Not entirely.”

“If they’re close enough to smell another alpha on me, hopefully they’ll let me talk before they rip out my throat.”

He nods, but his arms are still crossed firmly over his chest. “People will try to use you to get information about us. About the pack.”

“Scott’s been teaching me to control my heartbeat. I’ve repeated lies about all of you enough times that I’m starting to believe them.”

Derek makes a sound in the back of his throat at that, somewhere between a growl and a whine, but he nods.

“Any other reasons I shouldn’t go?” you ask, because you know exactly what he’s doing, and you’ve had enough of that shit from everyone else already.

He stares at you, as if contemplating something, and then gets to his feet. He stares at you until you do the same.

“Just one,” he says, and before you can do anything, he stalks forward and pulls you to him, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angles your head up to cover your lips with his own.

The hand not curled in your hair finds its way down to your waist, brushing under the hem of your shirt and pushing around to the small of your back. He pulls you closer, kisses you deeper, and when you gasp at the feeling of his body pressed into yours, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He kisses you like there are a thousand reasons why he wants to, like there are a thousand more reasons why he knows he shouldn’t. He kisses you like he never wants to stop.

“Derek,” you manage, pulling away for a breath of air. His fingers tighten around your skull – not enough to hurt, just enough to stop you from pulling away – and you feel stupid standing there without your hands on him.

You reach up and press a hand over his heart, biting at your lip to stop it from shaking.

“Please,” he whispers, and you feel it like a noose around your neck. “Don’t leave.”

He doesn’t look at you, refuses to even open his eyes, and it hurts you more than it should when his fingers tighten at your next words.

“I can’t stay,” you tell him. “I can’t – I can’t be useless anymore.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t jump to your defence like you expected. Instead, he just pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and presses his forehead to yours when you make yourself pull away.

“Then come back,” he says.

“I will,” you promise, and he finally meets your gaze. “God, Derek, of course I will.”

This time, you kiss him first.

 

* * *

 

He drives you to the airport on Sunday, because your dad is working and you couldn’t possibly do this if he was there to say goodbye.

You told Scott and the others that your flight left on Saturday, when they were all busy, just so you wouldn’t have to watch them watch you leave.

You stand there before you have to get on the plane, the two of you waiting off to the side while everyone else lines up.

You can’t think of anything to say, and you doubt any words would be adequate. What do you say to someone you’ve never really been friends with, who kissed you like you meant something and then didn’t speak to you again except to offer a lift to the airport?

What do you say to someone you’re abandoning to protect?

“Stiles,” he says, while you’re looking at your feet. You glance up, expecting him to have something – some grand confession – to give you, but he says nothing.

You notice that the line is getting smaller, down to one or two people, so you adjust your bag on your shoulder and nod at him.

“Thanks for the lift,” you whisper, and you move to step away. “I guess I’ll-”

But Derek never gives you the chance to finish the sentence, he only grips you by the wrist and drags you back to him, already swallowing the startled yelp you let out.

He kisses you, like last time. Like you mean something more to him than he has words to describe, like he wants to keep doing it, like he wants you to stay.

“I have to go,” you tell him, when he presses his forehead to yours.

“I know,” he answers, and at your waist you feel his claws.

When you look up, his eyes are red-rimmed and flashing blue.

“Derek,” you mutter, a warning he shouldn’t need. Your fingers curl over his and you turn to hide them from the security cameras.

“I know,” he says again. “I know.”

The stewardess at the gate starts to say your name, gives up, and calls out your surname instead.

It feels like the hardest goodbye you’ve had to say, making Derek let you go. Some part of you wonders if you should have expected this, if you should have known, but the rest of you is in too much shock to consider it.

“I’ll come back,” you promise him, smiling as he rolls his eyes.

It fades to something gentler when he smiles in return.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so terribly sorry this is so bad. god. i couldn't think of an ending and all of it just felt forced and terrible and i'll probably rewrite this whole thing later but uuuugh it's just sitting there i need to get rid of it sorry bye [pretends i published this in december when really it's january oops]


End file.
